My Father's Early Days in Chicago: 1948

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)

My handsome father, Gilbert Cayetano Huesca,
Chicago, Illinois, about 1948.

Nearly a year after his first visit to Chicago in 1947, the record of Border Crossings:  From Mexico to U.S., 1895 - 1957, of Gilbert Cayetano Huesca's second trip to the U.S., lists him as "Cayetano Huesca y Perrotin.*"  It describes him as 33 years old and measuring five foot six inches, with black hair and brown eyes.   

The record goes on to note that he intends to join "his second cousin, Luis Algarin, 702 W. 61 Place, Chicago, Ill.," and shows he crossed the border on July 14, 1948, with $50 dollars in his possession.   

Although the bond between my father (and our family) and the Algarins and their children remained strong over several decades, I do not recall hearing him mention that they were our cousins.  Were they blood relations?  

A brief foray into the Algarin genealogy does not reveal at first glance a direct connection with the Huesca family, although they might have been connected via the Charles Huesca branch, either as relatives, or friends who felt close enough to think of each other as family.    

The border crossing record continues: ". . . he states that he is now coming to the U.S. as much to study and be with his relatives as to work, and that he can readily find work as a designer.  It appears that he is not excludable as an alien contract laborer."  He returned to  his job at the Metalcraft company as a designer.  He may have been a designer of printed circuit boards, which at the time were designed manually.  He had an eye for detail and precision, traits that were essential for such a job.

The Algarins offered my father a place to stay, which he accepted on the condition that they let him pay for his room and board.  He began taking night courses in English and forced himself to eat out frequently so he would have to practice speaking his new language and would not have to impose too much on his gracious friends.  

He often stopped for dinner at a nearby diner on his way home from work.  Still new at reading English, he had learned how to order an apple pie and a cup of coffee, and this became his usual meal for lack of knowing what else was on the menu!  This went on for several months until the kind waitress at the counter figured out the problem.  My father said that the day she brought him a steak for the first time, he left her a big tip.

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*  Note:  I refer here to my father by his given name: Gilbert Huesca, though at this time he was known as Cayetano Huesca.  To learn the story behind his name, click here.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Did you know Gilbert Huesca, his cousin, Charles, or the Algarin family, or are you a member of one of these families?  If so, share your memories and comments below.

Those Places Thursday: North to Chicago

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)

My father, Gilbert Huesca, on one of his business trips,
climbing up a Pemex Mexican Petroleum oil tank,
Coatzacoalcos, Veracruz, Mexico

In 1947, Gilbert Huesca was a 32- year-old commercial artist from Mexico City who was eager to see the world and meet new people. 

Before venturing into graphic arts, he had traveled throughout 29 of the 31 Mexican states as a salesman, first for the Huesca family's hotels and casino and later for the family's embroidery business, Sábanas y Manteles Huesca (Huesca Linens and Tablecloths).  

Known at this time as "Cayetano*" to family and friends, he had learned a lot from his entrepreneur father, Jose Alberto Gil Cayetano Huesca, and from his own experiences of working in the family businesses. He felt he was ready to make his own mark on the world when his cousin, Charles Huesca, who was a few years older, invited him to visit his relatives in Chicago.

Encouraged by his family to accept Charles' invitation, Gilbert kissed his widowed mother, Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca and his brothers and sisters goodbye and set out on the long journey north to Chicago.

Charles, his parents, and his sister had moved from eastern Mexico to Chicago in the early 1900s and already had lived there for most of their lives, but they visited their home country often and kept in close contact with their many relatives south of the border, so the reunion between the cousins was an emotional one. 

My grandmother, Catalina Huesca, surrounded by five of
her six sons.  Left to right:  Edilberto, Eduardo, Gilbert,
Mario and Enrique Huesca.  Circa 1946, at my grandmother's
home at 145 Carpio Street, Mexico City

Charles and his family made their cousin feel at home and introduced him to a number of friends, including Louis and Theresa (Mireles) Algarin, who in time would come to consider my father as part of their own family.  He became a frequent guest in their home.

Gilbert fell in love with Chicago - its vibrant sense of progress, its scenic lakefront, and its friendly people. He felt comfortable there and began to consider petitioning for residency, with a view to calling the city his new home.   As his visa allowed him to stay and work in the U.S. for up to 1o months, he decided to stay, and Charles found him a position as a designer for the Metalcraft Corporation on New Orleans Street.  

My father, Gilbert Cayetano Huesca, had this

portrait taken with his mother,  Catalina

 (Perrotin) Huesca, just before he left Mexico 

City  for the United  States in 1948.  He was 

the fourth of her 11 children. 

Just before his visa expired in April 1948, Gilbert returned to Mexico City.  He had several conversations with his mother, whom he respected deeply, about his stay in Chicago and his desire to move there permanently.  Catalina saw the look in his eyes and knew she could not say no to her son.  She reluctantly gave him her blessing and promised to pray for him daily.

Gilbert was elated and began preparing for his return to the States. Shortly before leaving Mexico City, he took Catalina to the Tinoco Photography Studio for a mother and son portrait. Both he and Catalina would treasure their copies for the rest of their lives.  

His new visa arrived fairly quickly, and Gilbert returned to the United States on July 14, 1948, barely two months after he had left Chicago.  

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*  Note:  I refer here to my father by his given name and the name by which I knew him: Gilbert Huesca, though at this time he was known as Cayetano Huesca.  To learn the story behind his name, click here.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Did you know Gilbert Huesca or his family, the Algarins?  Are you a member of the Huesca, Perrotin, or Algarin families?  If so, share your stories and comments below.

Wisdom Wednesday: Good Things Come to Those who Wait

Joan Joyce Schiavon (1928 - 1987)
Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)

                                    

My mother,
Joan Joyce Schiavon, about 1947

1947 was a time of joy and excitement for the Schiavon family of Chicago, Illinois, as they anticipated the wedding that would join Ralph Thomas "Tom" Schiavon and Angelina "Angie" Ciliberto.  

My mother, Joan Schiavon, having just graduated from Aquinas Dominican High School the year before, was proud to be a member of the wedding party for her brother and surely wondered when her own turn at the altar would come. 

My father,
Gilbert Cayetano Huesca, about 1947

Little did she or her family know that during that same year, the young man who would years later sweep her off her feet and become her own Prince Charming - and my father - was being admitted to the United States at Laredo, Texas, and was on his way to Chicago.

They would not meet for another eight years.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Did you know Joan (Schiavon) and Gilbert Huesca, or are you a member of the Schiavon/Schiavone 

Wedding Wednesday: Tom and Angie Schiavon

Ralph Thomas Schiavon (1924 - 1993)
Angelina (Ciliberto) Schiavon (1923 - 2004)

Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Thomas Schiavon exiting Saint Philip Neri Catholic Church, 
Chicago.   The man behind Angie is her brother, Joe Ciliberto.  Angie's father
is on the far right, beaming with pride at his daughter.

The wedding took place inside the exquisite gothic church of Saint Philip Neri, 
on Chicago's South Side.

The happy couple flanked by their wedding party.  Far left, my mother,
Joan Schiavon; far right, John Eubanks; second from right, Joe Ciliberto.

My mother, at 18 years old, hoped she would catch
the bouquet.  Her turn - and her prince - would come,
but not for another eight years.  He was worth the wait.

My mother's older brother, Ralph Thomas Schiavon, known as "Tom," married his sweetheart, Angelina Ciliberto, a lovely young woman from Iacurso, Calabria, Italy, in about 1946.  

My mother, Joan Schiavon, was a bridesmaid of honor at their wedding, which was held at Saint Philip Neri Church in Chicago, the family parish.  The two of them got on famously.  She loved Angie and felt she finally had met the sister she had never had.

Tom and Angie had a long and happy marriage, raising four children and living in the Chicago area for many years.  Tom worked as an engineer for the Chicago public schools.  He and Angie loved boating and the outdoors and were officers of the United States Coast Guard.  

They were my baptismal godparents and were always very loving to me.  As I grew up, we spoke on the phone from time to time, and our conversations sometimes would go on for hours.  Both of them would be on an extension telephone, laughing and reminiscing about times past and present.   They were especially proud of their children and grandchildren and told many a story about the latest visit or accomplishment.

They retired to Knoxville, Tennessee, where Tom died of a heart attack one day as he was working outside in the garden.  Angie buried him under a lovely magnolia tree at Greenwood Cemetery in Knoxville.  Angie lived another nine years and died in 2004 in Bradenton, Florida.  She is buried beside Tom.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Did you know Tom and Angie (Ciliberto) Schiavon and their family, or are you a member of the Schiavon/Schiavone, Ciliberto, or Huesca families?  Do you remember Saint Philip Neri Church?  If so, share your memories and comments below.

Matrilineal Monday: Arise, ye faithful Aquinites

Joan Joyce (Schiavon) Huesca: (1928 - 1987)

Joan Schiavon, about 15 years
old, Aquinas High School,
Chicago

The 8th grade graduating class of Dixon Elementary School signed their names and declared their ambitions for adulthood in the centerfold pages of the June 1942 edition of the Dixon Beacon.  My mother signed her name, Schiavon, Joan,  in an elegant hand and declared she would become a designer.  

That fall, she entered Aquinas Dominican High School on the South Side of Chicago, where she would spend the next four years. One of the first pages of Taquin, the 1946 school yearbook, mentions "the Aquinas Way of Life and Learning...'to praise, to teach and to bless."  During my mother's time at the school, the students participated in a project to paint murals depicting the life of Saint Thomas Aquinas, for whom the school was named.  My mother took great pride in her part in the effort:  her contribution was painting Thomas Aquinas' feet on the main mural in the entry hall.

Mural of Saint Thomas Aquinas
 in the entrance to Aquinas
 Dominican High School; my mother
 painstakingly painted his feet.

The Dominican sisters of Adrian, Michigan, ran the all-girl school and were strict with their teenage charges. When a student broke the rules, she might suffer a consequence such as having to scrub the linoleum floors with a toothbrush.  My mother was an unlucky offender once and recalled being on her hands and knees for hours under the watchful eye of Sister Rose Francis, who made sure she did not "miss a spot" on the main floor - including the first flight of stairs.  Whatever her transgression was, my mother made sure to never do it again.  

Sister Rose Francis was an English teacher, but my mother said she sometimes acted more like a drill sergeant.  She would order her students to sit up straight in class, feet flat on the floor, as she paced up and down the aisles, checking their posture.  "Uncross those limbs!" she would bark at those who dared to sit with their legs crossed.  They would quickly oblige.  

Spanish class - my mother is partially visible
in the upper far right corner.  Years later, when
our family lived in Mexico City, she wished she
would have studied harder, though her
Spanish vocabulary was excellent.

Joan Schiavon, left, broadcasting the
morning school announcements

Sister Rose Francis was as much a stickler for regulations as she was for modesty. If she suspected a uniform violation, she would call the girls up to the front of the classroom and have them kneel on the floor so she could check the length of their woolen uniform skirts.  If a girl's skirt did not touch the floor, she had to go to a corner of the room and cut a strip of cheesecloth and stitch it to her skirt hem, where it would stay until she could fix it at home.

As everyone was still growing, most of the girls got to practice their sewing a lot during English class.  

Although most of the girls feared Sister Rose Francis, she was an excellent teacher, and those who made it through her class learned a deep appreciation for literature and found she also had  gentle side.  My mother also credited her with teaching her to write well.  She spoke fondly of her and visited her for many years after her graduation.

Margaret "Marcy" Brehm, my
mother's best friend at Aquinas

While at Aquinas, my mother became friends with Margaret Brehm.  The two remained close into adult life, and "Aunt Marcy," as we knew her, was a frequent visitor at our home in Chicago and even spent a couple of weeks with us after we moved to Mexico City.

My mother loved her life at Aquinas.  She was a good student who enjoyed English and history and excelled at speech and drama.  She found Spanish difficult and did not see much point in taking it, as she did not think she would ever use it.  She was one of the fastest typists in her business class at 65 words per minute.

The school song goes:

Arise, ye faithful Aquinites
Your colors bright unfurl.
Let your voice sing the part
In the choice of your heart.
It's the school for every girl. 

Then sing, girls, and send the strains above
With echoes of a love that will ne'er die.
Sing, girls, along the path of life and bring
Joy in everything.  Victory will ring." 

Class of 1946:  Joan Schiavon, top row, far right

Her 1946 high school yearbook, Taquin, notes that she took part in Operetta, which appears to have been a musical/drama club. She probably was involved in drama, not music, as one of the nuns had told her she could not carry a tune.  "Joan, don't sing.  Just move your lips, dear," she whispered in my mother's ear one afternoon in church during choir practice.

My mother took that pretty hard and never sang in public again.  She sang to my sisters and me, probably figuring that we were too young to care.

She was right.  We were her biggest fan club.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Funeral Card Friday: Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis

Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis (1858 - 1940)

The front of this holy card, now
faded reads, "Show us Thy face,
and we shall be saved."

My maternal great-grandmother, Mary Jane "Janie" McGinnis, died at 7:15 in the morning of July 13, 1940, at the home of her eldest child, Benita (McGinnis) McCormick, of pernicious anemia, from which she had suffered for two years, along with chronic kidney disease.

Pernicious anemia is caused by the intestine's inability to absorb Vitamin 12. The absence of this vitamin makes it hard for iron levels to remain normal in the body.  Between this and the kidney disease, Mary Jane's 81-year-old body had become increasingly weak and frail, though her granddaughters, Joan (Schiavon) Huesca (my mother) and Jane (McCormick) Olson recalled that her mind was sharp until the end.

Janie was buried at Holy Sepuchre Cemetery in Worth, Illinois, next to her husband, Tom.  Years later they would be joined by their eldest son Eugene McGinnis, and youngest daughter, Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon (my grandmother).

It must have been hard for the whole family - her surviving brother and sisters, her children and her grandchildren -  to say their final goodbyes to this great lady who had been the center of their lives for so long.  Still, they would always remember her with great affection and admiration, imbuing this love for her and for Tom, in their own families, some of whom were born too late to know them personally but heard countless stories about them around the dinner table many a Sunday evening.


Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Wisdom Wednesday: Wise and Loving Matriarch

Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis:  (1858 - 1940)

Friends and sometimes complete strangers often dropped by Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis' home during the 1920s and 30s, hungry for a meal or even advice.  "Janie" gave both quietly and generously, never asking for anything in return.  She was a fervent follower of the Golden Rule:  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis, at Bluebird Cottage in Wisconsin, late
1930s.   I think this may have been in the town of Berlin, where she often
 visited her maternal cousins, Patrick and Mary McGoorty.  The blue silk
 dress with white polka-dots was her favorite.  She sewed it herself, as
 she had all her clothes. 

Janie was not only the center of her immediate family but also was the darling of her sisters and brothers, who visited her often.  Other than she, the only other siblings who had married were Frances ("Frank"), who married James Cherry; and John Patrick, who married Elizabeth Cain. The others - Lyle, Maggie, Agnes, Delia "Di," and Thomas "Tommy," bought a home together at 17813 Woodbury Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio.   Lyle went to live with Janie in Chicago after Tom McGinnis died, where she remained  until her own death in 1934.

My mother, Joan Schiavon, went to live with her grandmother Mary Jane McGinnis and Aunt Lyle as a young child, when the challenges of the Great Depression made it difficult for her parents to feed and clothe their two children.  Sleeping with her grandmother every night and following her around like a puppy dog by day, my mother felt immensely loved and protected.  Years later, she would call this the best time of her childhood.

Janie McGinnis lived a long and happy life, living with her daughters Benita and Alice as the years passed and she began to feel the strains of old age.  When she turned  79, she was diagnosed with kidney disease and pernicious anemia, and she died quietly on July 13, 1940, at Benita's home, surrounded by her children and grandchildren.  She was 81 years old.

Though her death left a huge void in the McGinnis family, her children and grandchildren carried memories of Janie's gentle love, selflessness, and wisdom with them through their own lives.  I would venture to say that many of her qualities have trickled down through them to their own grandchildren and great-grandchildren, who may have been born too late to know her but who to this day continue to benefit from her legacy of love and good works. 

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Talented Tuesday: Domestic Goddess

Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis (1858 - 1940)

My great- grandmother, Mary Jane
(Gaffney) McGinnis, wearing a dress she  made
for her engagement.  Conneaut, Ohio, circa 1884.

Known for her generous heart and her delicious pies, Mary Jane McGinnis held a special place in the memories of her descendants who knew her.  My mother, Joan Joyce (Schiavon) Huesca, was sent by her parents, Ralph and Alice  (McGinnis) Schiavon, to live with Mary Jane, my mother’s maternal grandmother, when she was about 3 years old.  It was the middle of the Depression, and her parents could not afford to care for both her and her brother, Tom Schiavon. My mother remembered “Grandma McGinnis” with great love and respect, especially the way she never turned anyone away from her door hungry or cold.  At the time, Mary Jane’s sister, Lyle Gaffney, lived with her and my mother.

Mary Jane, known as "Janie", was the eldest of ten children born to John Francis Gaffney and Bridget (Quinn),  Gaffney, both Irish immigrants from Drumbrick and Cootehall, Ireland, respectively.  She arrived in the world on December 2, 1858, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and was baptized at the Cathedral of Saint Mary in that city.

The family moved shortly after that to Conneaut, Ohio, where John made a living as a peddlar, according to the 1860 United States Census.  He and Bridget saved their money and were able to buy a large residence that was big enough to house their growing family  and rent out rooms to the men who worked on the burgeoning Nickel Plate Railroad nearby.  Located at 51 Mill Street in Conneaut, the home became variously known as the Gaffney House and the Conneaut House. And yes, their family grew:  Nine more children would come along:  Margaret, Elizabeth, Delia, John, Frances, Thomas, Agnes, Clara, and Edward.  The two youngest children died in infancy.  

Jane (McCormick) Olson, daughter of Mary Jane’s and Thomas’ eldest child, Benita  (McGinnis) McCormick and another of their grandchildren, recalled Mary Jane describing the way she and the young girls of her day learned Irish step (or “clog,” as it was called then) dancing, noting that long boards would be held up against their spines to train the girls to maintain a very straight posture for this style of dance.

Gaffney House, also known as Conneaut House,
51 Mill Street, Conneaut, Ohio, ca. 1880

One day a young railroad worker by the name of Thomas Eugene McGinnis arrived at Gaffney House to rent a room.  Recently returned from several years at sea as a merchant sailor, he had decided to settle down in the Conneaut area, drawn by the promise of a good job offered by the railroad.  Checking in with Bridget Gaffney, he was greeted by the divine aroma of a warm and freshly-baked pie.  He asked to try a piece, and he found it so delicious that he insisted on meeting the person who had baked it.  Bridget excused herself momentarily and returned with her 25-year old daughter Mary Jane.  

Tom could not believe his eyes as he talked to this young woman.  The slender young brunette had deep blue eyes, long, dark eyelashes, a rosy complexion, and a sweet, quiet confidence that intrigued him.  No longer smitten by just the pie, he fell in love with her on the spot.

Tom and Janie were married a year later on May 19, 1884, at Saint Mary's Church in Conneaut.  Janie, who was not only a superb baker but also an accomplished dressmaker, made her own wedding gown.  Her sister Lyle, a milliner, made her headpiece.

Tom and Janie moved just down the street from her parents to 78 Mill Street and began their own family.  They lost their first child, Mary Margaret, in childbirth, but they went on to have Benita Elizabeth, Francis Eugene, John Charles, and Alice Gaffney, all born in Conneaut.  

Tom continued to work for the Nickel Plate Railroad until a train derailed near Conneaut, killing several men.  Shaken by the tragedy, he decided to move his family to Chicago, where he could find another job.  They arrived there sometime between 1895 and 1900. 

Tom found a job as a cement inspector for the City of Chicago.  He built the family's two-story, Craftsman style family home at 8336 South Drexel Avenue in 1912.

Tom and Janie were fiercely devoted to each other throughout their lives, and when Tom died at age 71 in 1927, everyone thought Janie would die soon after of a broken heart.   

Sustained by her Catholic faith and her love for her five grandchildren, Jack (John McGinnis' son), Ralph and Joan Schiavon, and Buddy and Jane McCormick, Janie McGinnis surprised them all and went on to live another 13 years, devoting herself to her family and looking out for her siblings, friends and neighbors.  Her home was the hub of her family's lives, and all would gather there every Sunday afternoon to share a delicious meal and hours of stories, songs, and laughter.  

Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis, surrounded
by her four children, (left to right) Alice,
Eugene, John, and Benita. In the living room
at 8336 South Drexel Avenue, Chicago,
ca. 1939.

Besides her baking talents, my great-grandmother Mary Jane was remembered for keeping a pristine home and was expert at the domestic arts so valued at the time.  She made many lovely clothes for her children and grandchildren, including my own mother. She taught my mother to love sewing, especially embroidery. My mother loved the creative outlet she found in sewing.  She went on to become an accomplished seamstress herself and taught my sisters and me to sew so that you could never see the stitches in a garment.  I was quite proud of this accomplishment and always credited it to my mother and great-grandmother.

The pie-making was another story.  Mary Jane was said to make pies with just the right flakiness, warm and light and picture perfect.  After so many stories about those wonderful pies, I was certain that her talent would have to rub off on me.  I was determined to be just as good a pie baker as my great-grandmother.

Unfortunately, I would find out that I was not to inherit the pie-making gene, though I tried in vain to learn every secret technique for baking pies to perfection.  To this day, my pies are more crunchy than flaky, the filling is fair at best, my attempts at crimping the edges are clumsy, and the edges themselves almost always fall off the pan before the pie is even done.  Thankfully, my family still eats them, and no one has died from them yet.

I have had to learn through fits and starts that I will never be a domestic goddess in the tradition of the Gaffney women, though I hope I at least get points for trying. 

On the other hand, my sisters have the Gaffney gene, especially my youngest sister, who is known for her delicious meals and baked goods.  These seem to come naturally to her, as do those long Gaffney eyelashes.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully